CHAPTER XXIV—A CLUE TO THE MYSTERY

“Mrs. Weatherbee would like to see you, Miss Allen.” This summons from Molly the hall girl, aroused Jane from a somewhat disconnected reverie—if deep thinking on a dark subject might be so termed. Jane was occupied with Marian and Dolorez, and wondering what they had done to that bunch of roses, now known to have been contributed by them to Helen at the Barn Swifts’ playlet. What was written on that tiny card that worked such unpleasant mischief?

“Very well, Molly. I shall go to the office at once,” replied Jane, rousing herself and suiting her action to the words.

Mrs. Weatherbee’s scholarly face was inscrutable, and gave no hint of the purport of her call for Jane. She smiled, but she always did that, and she was very cordial, but likewise, she was always that.

Jane was naturally apprehensive when she returned the smile and took the chair offered.

“Miss Allen, I am somewhat disturbed,” began the directress. “Since the beginning of the term I have endeavored to keep my official hands off the girls’ affairs, except as they relate directly to the school work, but I wonder now, if that has not been somewhat of a mistake.”

“I hope that I have not been instrumental in effecting that regime, Mrs. Weatherbee, if it has been a mistake,” Jane quickly offered.

“Oh, no, not that. I liked your spirit when you took the class presidency, and pledged your efforts to avoid the usual squabbles getting into the hands of the faculty; but even so good a plan may be abused.”

Jane wanted to plunge into the heart of the trouble, whatever it might be, at once. This being polite and beating around the bush, always vexed her. But it was the way with the faculty.

“May I know to what you refer, Mrs. Weatherbee?” Jane asked in the most respectful tone.

“Yes, my dear, certainly. I have brought you here to tell you that precisely.” She smoothed out the blotter and patted a few papers—anything, Jane thought, to kill time.

Mrs. Weatherbee asked finally, “What do you know about this plan of Marian Seaton’s and Dolorez Vincez to canvass the college to get customers for the so-called beauty shop someone is opening at the very gate of our grounds?”

“Why, Mrs. Weatherbee! I know absolutely nothing about it. In fact, I have not even heard it mentioned before!” Jane almost gasped.

“I am glad to hear you say so. I felt you wouldn’t have allowed such an unheard of thing to get hold without coming to me.”

“Indeed, I would not,” said Jane seriously. She still gasped.

“As you are class president, I naturally asked you first, as we always feel it better to allow the girls a chance to develop their own plans, where such a privilege is possible. But to have young ladies actually go about the rooms, and get names for beauty parlors!”

The contempt in Mrs. Weatherbee’s voice spoke louder than did her words. She was plainly very much “disturbed” as she had previously admitted.

“I should think all the old class girls would be well aware that the matter of canvassing is strictly prohibited,” Jane said. “And for such a thing as a beauty parlor!” Here she, too, felt the situation beyond words. She seemed to vision the girls running out of the grounds at every recreation to get another daub of enamel, or a quick dip of hair dye. What a situation such an opportunity would precipitate! Also the fact that Dolorez’ black hair was streaked, and that her high color was not always reliable, flashed across Jane’s mind. This had been Dolorez’ doings, she felt convinced.

“I agree with you,” Mrs. Weatherbee replied. “No girl in Wellington for any length of time could have committed such an error unconsciously. I therefore feel that Miss Vincez must be more to blame than Miss Seaton.”

“I now recall,” Jane amended, “hearing some talk about making a lot of money (Dolorez had said a ‘pot of money’) but I had no idea to what this referred.”

“Yes, they had it all settled. Little slips of paper were typewritten and the girls pledged—actually pledged, to take the so-called treatments. And they were to pay a part of the charge in advance to start the parlor. Did you ever hear of anything so absurd?”

Jane shook her head to deny ever having heard of anything so absurd. She was thinking too rapidly to trust herself to words.

“Of course, I shall have to bring both girls before the board,” said Mrs. Weatherbee. “I am convinced that they alone are to blame.”

“Might it be possible,” suggested Jane, “that Dolorez is ignorant of our rules as regards business?”

“I think not. She has simply wound Miss Seaton around her fingers. Miss Vincez is a girl of unusual experience. Her standing was investigated, but I am afraid we allowed personal influence to overcome good judgment. Miss Vincez was formerly a pupil-teacher at Blindwood.”

“A pupil-teacher!” exclaimed Jane. “Then that accounts for her basketball skill?”

“Exactly. She taught athletics.”

“And she presumed to play with school girls,” exclaimed Jane indignantly.

“Yes, but we have our official eye on her,” Mrs. Weatherbee said rather hurriedly, for Mrs. Weatherbee. “We would not have allowed her to use her so-called skill against our legitimate players, in fact, when she was disqualified for fouls, in your tryout, she then and there was notified she could not again play in any of the games, or take part in any of the athletic contests. We have no objection to her enjoying all the exercises, that is her right, but she is disqualified as a professional, from all amateur sports.”

Jane was too surprised for utterance. That a teacher should stand up in their games and try “to best” a set of whole-hearted young school girls!

“I would not allow this to become public, as such occurrences would have an unwholesome effect on the morale of the school,” Mrs. Weatherbee went on. “But I knew it would filter through. Such sensations always do get abroad—like steam or smoke; we can’t control the influence.”

“But Blindwood!” Jane now repeated. “Wasn’t that where—Helen went to school?”

“Yes,” replied the directress, “Helen was a pupil there also.”

“Then that accounts——” Jane hesitated. “Why, I wonder, did Helen not recognize Dolorez?”

“They meet very seldom, and Miss Vincez has changed. She may have been a charter customer at her wonderful beauty parlor for as I am informed from Blindwood, Miss Vincez there was a striking blonde.”

“Oh, that is it! She has changed her hair!” Jane could not refrain from exclaiming. “And she knows Helen, and knows her real name of course. Oh, Mrs. Weatherbee, I am sure Dolorez Vincez was responsible for that shock Helen received with the bouquet. Whatever was written on the little card simply shocked Helen out of her senses.”

“Precisely,” replied Mrs. Weatherbee. “But I have not questioned Helen. I believe the child is on the verge of a nervous collapse, and however kindly we would go about it, a word might be more than she could stand. She is so high strung and temperamental. I have even had her excused from many lessons, believing that the best plan. Helen will do all she can to meet her obligations, and there is no reason why she should be driven.”

“Oh, Mrs. Weatherbee!” and impulsively Jane threw her arms around the woman who stood as mother to the Wellington girls. “How good, and kind you are!”

“Thank you, my dear. Such gratitude more than repays me. I sometimes fear my necessary intervention may be taken as interference. But when I have done my duty, and all turns out well then—I am glad.”

“What can I do to assist you in this matter, Mrs. Weatherbee?” asked Jane earnestly.

“My dear, all I want you to do is to use your influence privately with the young ladies, to show them the absurdity of subscribing to anything like that so-called course of treatments. You see, the danger is, some of them may actually have given their money, and we cannot force Miss Vincez’ friend—whoever she may be—to refund it. However, under any conditions, I shall not allow a single Wellington girl to visit this place—this beauty parlor.”

“I will gladly do all I can, Mrs. Weatherbee, to counteract the canvass. I wish I had heard of it sooner. But there has been so much going on lately. And being anxious about our big basketball game, I have been keeping the girls at practice daily.”

“Oh, yes, my dear, and that is quite right. I do not want to spoil your pretty head with compliments, but you must know that we all appreciate what you are doing. Your leadership for the juniors has given us perfectly splendid results this far.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weatherbee. But really I am only doing what anyone would do, and I feel rather foolish to be complimented. It is just a case of being in line. Someone has to lead.”

“That is a fine spirit to view it in, Jane,” Mrs. Weatherbee never used first names—that is, seldom indeed. The occasion must have been one of singular confidence. “But we recall that you did not fall into this place without well-deserved merit,” she commented. “This is a big college and we have many fine girls, so that those chosen to lead must have been qualified. However, I want to say a word about our little Helen. She surprised me greatly with her wonderful skill at the violin. You know when she came to us, she had been sort of lost—that is, her friends had abandoned her.”

“Yes, Mrs. Weatherbee,” said Jane simply, choking back her interest.

“Well, I have thought since we might have traced them by their letters, which must have been in the possession of the Blindwood faculty. But I was restrained from doing this by the attitude of Helen herself. She fairly begged me not to seek her friends. Strange, I thought.”

“I have found her the same with every line I attempted to uncover in her interest,” said Jane. “But why she is so fearful of being discovered I cannot guess. Still, she is so sweet, and gentle, and I felt we might surely regard her wishes. After all, we have no dealings with her friends. She has proven her worth and she is our—guest. So I have almost decided, Mrs. Weatherbee, as far as I am concerned, Helen may remain our mysterious orphan. You must have heard the absurd story about my having adopted her.”

“Yes, that was the first inkling I had of these foolish tales. But it was so very foolish it died by its own hand. However, as you say, my dear, we have only to deal with Helen, and she is beyond reproach, so for the present at least, I quite agree with you. We have no reason to bother about her antecedents. Now run along. And be wise. Don’t take too many into your confidence. You may trust Judith. I am sure. I am beginning to think of you as do the girls. I hear them call you the Two Jays.”

This playful thrust enlivened Jane and struck a responsive chord in her rather drooping spirits. It would be good to confide in Judy, at least she, Jane thought, was human enough to enjoy the beauty parlor joke with her chum.

And wouldn’t Judy just howl!